


Lost Caves

by trashanonymous



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abuse, Am a little nervous about this, Anal, Bare with me i, Blow Jobs, Damaged people getting repaired, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Ethics, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, M/M, Messy Feelings, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Therapist! Frank, Therapy, all the abuse, child emotional abuse, cute sleepovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashanonymous/pseuds/trashanonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's place of solitude is replaced with a dark, musty basement forced to follow his captors demands. </p><p>Frank, a therapist, finds himself in charge of intergrating Gerard back into a world he's uneasy about rejoining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How can thoughts have a prologue

_Most vivid of his memories of his hometown were those of the cave. He was sure it was on private property despite being hidden amongst columns of trees in the forest not far from his home. It was his escape, even now that he didn't have the freedom to reach it. The thought made him grimace. His home had become the basement of a man he only knew as Master. The cave, although damp and mossy served as a place to hide, a place of safety. Master ruined the sanctuary of his cave and placed him in one of his own creation._

_"Gee, baby," the unexpected call startled him out of his dreams of damp, mossy cave walls and was followed by thumps down the stairs._

_Gerard quickly crawled into a kneeling position with his head bowed, the perfect picture of submission. He always found himself conflicted on whether he should fight back but his energy was gone and his master was kind when he obeyed._

_His master appeared, newspaper in hand. "They've given up on you, baby. It's just you and me now."_

_The newspaper fell into his lap, opened to the memorial pages._

_He used his chained hands to bring the paper closer to his eyes and quickly spots an old image of himself amongst columns of the dead. It declared him to be a beloved son and cherished brother. There was no date of death. He glanced up at the year written like a footnote at the bottom of the page. The article had been published five years beyond what he knew of the real world. He had been here five years. Tears smudged the ink on the page._

_"Baby, don't cry. I'll never give up on you," his captor smirked. "Why don't we go upstairs? Get you off this dirty floor."_

_Gerard's hands were freed but he was more trapped than ever. No one was even looking for him. He was left for dead._

_At least his master loved him. He was kept safe and warm in the house and he was a cherished pet until it came to work days where he was locked in the basement. Left chained in waiting. All he could do in this house was serve his master and hope he would be trusted enough to no longer need these chains._

_And Gerard knew what would happen once he was upstairs. He almost craved it._

 

“Gerard?” Frank called through a locked door, knocking on it slightly. “I know you’re afraid, but I need you to come upstairs with me. You need to take your pills and we need to talk about what set this panic attack off.”

The therapist sighed, clutching his client’s folder to his chest. This was their fourth session together and the third time Gerard had locked himself in his basement bedroom mid-session in fear. Frank struggled to work out what had gone wrong, where his words had taken a wrong turn. Setbacks like this is one of the many negatives of in-home therapy. The client has the ability to lock themselves away or do essentially anything as it was their own terrain. Things like this never happen in the office.

They had been speaking about self-care, well, Frank had been speaking of self-care while Gerard sat across from him, head bowed. This was how the man often sat, only looking up when spoken too. The initial psychiatric evaluation suggested this could have been a trained habit from his captor, his automatic response to another human’s presence; submission.

Frank’s role in this was to help him ease back into his old life, teaching him how to cope with the trauma and anxiety as well as looking into education that he had missed over six years of sexual abuse and slavery. He had spent most of his days chained to a basement wall and only freed when his captor returned from work and forced him into terrible things.

Gerard was lucky to have been found. People had stopped looking for the man. He was found accidentally, after a neighbour had reported sounds of what she believed to be a pained dog’s whimpers. He was found chained to a tree, gagged and exposed to the cold weather.

It made sense that Gerard would run down to the basement when he was afraid. The basement was the only space he had to himself in his last home, a point of refuge, the only place where he could be alone. As something that was owned, his release from captivity encouraged him to take back what was familiar, from his life before and his life during. He grew up in a basement, surrounded by comics and VCRs and was later held captive in one. Basements oozed familiarity, more so than his own family. And the man on the other side of the door demanding his presence.

Another point of familiarity; orders. There was a click as Gerard opened the door, nose snotty and eyes red. Frank only got a flash of his face before his head bowed.

“Thanks for coming out, Gerard. You ready to go back upstairs?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> um here you go. More personal life shit, and slavey sadness and hospitals and yeah

Frank glanced down at the report file on his passenger seat nearly shuddering at what he knew it contained. The horrors his patient had endured until he believed they were normal, a lack of abuse meant kindness. He pulled out the Way family's driveway. He had left the family with a reminder that they had his contact details for office hours and the twenty-four-hour emergency line of his company along with the hospital's Crisis Aversion Team. It was pointless to wish they wouldn't need it.  His patient had miles to go, and his family could only take care of him to an extent, they were as horrified as him at what had happened to their eldest. Donna Way was almost always either red and puffy eyed or in tears whenever Frank saw her; frightened of Gerard’s return to society and the thought of losing her son again.The therapist resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel in the finest act of unprofessionalism. This case was the biggest challenge of his career. It sickened Frank to think someone was capable of taking a fifteen-year-old and spending years to train the boy into dependency.

Frank scolded himself for his impatience on the drive back to his office. It had only been six weeks since his patient’s freedom, two weeks since he returned to his home; it was wrong to expect more progress than they had already made. The man he had met in the mental health ward of the hospital wouldn't have dared to attempt to lock himself away and hide other than to make attempts on his life. He had been under the belief that every movement had to be under the control of someone else. Even acts of defiance against those trying to help him was progress worth noting as a success.

Gerard had barely even accepted the fact that his captor wasn't going to return to him, let alone be physically able to see him again with the prison sentence he had gained. He had gone as far to defend the man despite not even being aware of his real name. He could list the reason for every injury his body had obtained, always citing himself as the problem. Not the man who had kidnaped him, the man he adored and refused to incriminate further. Recordings of these initial interrogations with the police enclosed in the file and Frank was dreading having to watch them himself the transcribed recordings were enough to give him the creeps. The thought of watching Way sit with his head bowed, speaking only when spoken to and replying only in defense of his “master” was heartbreaking. It was challenging enough to watch it in real life when it had slightly improved.

He only stopped struggling to cooperate when an officer carelessly mentioned there had been others kept by the man. Their bodies were never found, but traces of their presence in the form of fingerprints and blood. A space similar to Gerard's basement was found in the attic with evidence to suggest another young man had been trapped there. The officer had openly stated it was believed to be a boy of 15, Brendon; that had gone missing a year prior, still yet to be found. Police officers, Frank concluded, were often desensitized due to the things they saw in Jersey and as a result they spoke clinically of people much like himself. People became numbers, tasks. Way’s case, however, was just troubled enough for Frank and all those associated with his care to struggling maintaining a professional front.

Flashing with misdirected anger at the thought of another boy stealing his time with Master, Gerard began scratching absently with nerves, picking at his skin until it started to bleed. Saddened and hurt at not being enough for Him, that there were things he couldn’t give his master. It wasn't until late that evening staff of his ward had noticed anything was amiss other than the expected case of post-traumatic stress. What had started as a nervous itch during his various meetings that day had turned into an attempt to claw all the way through his skin and to his veins openly in the hallway without shame. Being frequently moved in and out of unfamiliar spaces had taken its toll and the thought that his master loved others had pushed him over the edge. A nurse quickly intervened.

An emergency reevaluation with a psychiatrist exposed potential Stockholm Syndrome and agoraphobic tendencies. The only line is separating Gerard from diagnosis the lack of DCM criteria. Information was pried from the dazed man, mainlined with an anti-anxiety drug he found himself professing his love for the man that owned him, that he had wanted everything that came his way. He told anyone that listened he had been cared for and protected and punished appropriately like a parent would do for a child. The rebuttal being that he had been found tied outside like an animal, and no parent should repeatedly rape and starve their child leaving scars from abuse littered over their skin. Gerard said little after that stating only that he was a pet.

Upon return to his bed, Gerard had lashed out at the nearest nurse making a last ditch effort to gain freedom. Ripping out his IV and brandishing the needle like a weapon. Heavy sedation was needed to put him to rest that night. He was placed under watch and sanctioned to the hospital’s care until deemed no longer a danger to himself and those around him. This was the night Frank had met him, in a drug induced sleep, and given his case. At the time, it had minimal written notes from the police and consisted mostly of photographs of his abused body and speculation of how individual injuries formed on his body. He had found himself thankful he only had to look at these once and could now skip straight past it to his writings on the patient. The file had quickly become thick with pages of hospital reports and copies of Way’s release forms. A new divider was put in the file to mark when Frank became officially in charge of his care, with the assistance of the hospital rather than Frank assisting the hospital.

Arriving at his office, he returned to his reports on Way. Marking in what they talked about, the way the younger man looked at him when he came out from his hiding space, how he spoke of his captor showing affection and how he silenced at Frank's suggestion of abuse. A brief glance at the clock showed he had ten minutes until his next appointment that was thankfully taking place in his office. Enough time for a quick visit to the scanner to email his latest update to Way's file to his psychiatrist that had once fortnightly appointments with the patient opposed to Frank's once daily visits.

An uneventful end to office hours and one canceled appointment led to Frank leaving early enough to stop at a florist to pick up something small for Jamia. In his line of work, he saw many people that have no support except those paid to be supportive. It was a reminder of how thankful he was to have a loving girlfriend and his dogs to greet him on his return home every night.

Dogs barked as he opened his front door, he smiled down at them, crouching to give them a quick pat, before he spotted Jamia in the kitchen preparing dinner, tossing a smile over her shoulder to him. Nights like these were what he lived for.

_Master was tense, Gee noticed while sitting at his feet. He had yet to hear the sound of the other man's back hitting the back of the chair and his feet shifting to sit on the coffee table. He knew it was because he had cried. He had shown emotion for those that he now had evidence of their abandonment. The first time he has even thought of them in what felt like years was as he read their names in the paper. Mikey had last hope too. He had tried to stop when commanded, but tears continued to spill down his cheeks even now as Master watched football. It was never a good sign to be ignored for this long after being brought up the stairs._

_The television was paused, and Gerard flinched tensing himself for impact._

_"Baby, you know how much I love you. Don't you?" Master smiled down at him. "And you understand I only showed you the article was to prove that I am the only one who loves you."_

_"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."_

_He resisted the urge to giggle as he was pulled up onto the couch, into his master's side nuzzling into the older man. Gerard suppressed a grin at the feeling of being surrounded by His love and understanding. He basked in the affection after the fear of being punished subsided as he felt fingers smoothing out his limp hair and run down to his prominent collar bones._

_"And how are you supposed to thank me, Gee baby?" The older man was quick to admonish._

_He made quick work of the all too familiar belt buckle. Slipping his fingers into the trousers._

_This act was once a strain on his soul. A thing of repulsion with teeth and gagging and tears. Memories of the punishments made him flinch an unusually rough tug of his hair every once and a while. It had always ended in punishment in the past, being locked downstairs. He was quickly trained out of his hesitations and found himself enjoying the rough pulling of his hair and the feeling of Master’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Where he once felt used and destroyed, he found comfort in the intimacy he imagined. He smiled into the task at hand. A life of servitude was all he wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um hey everyone. You're all sweethearts honestly without you lot that commented i'd have been too nervous to post again. Thank you for your kind words. They all made me blush a little Thnk you.


	3. third time is the charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard makes national television and no one is pleased
> 
> lmao @ media for being giant bags of unethical shit happens irl al the time and its kinda sick

Watching the news in the small amount of free time the couple got was something typically adult they had adopted upon their exit from college. The routine had formed when they first moved in together and got their first serious jobs in starting their careers. Jamia worked as an intern in an art gallery, and Frank joined a group of experienced psychologists and occupational therapist looking to branch out into a private practice. Jamia would throw something vegetarian together in their meat-free household- bar the dogs’ food- when she returned from work, slightly earlier than her partner. Frank thanked her with small displays of affection at least once a week. That night’s had been flowers and a quick kiss on the cheek on his way to get out plates and utensils.

The television switched on as they began to eat together, on their bar stools touching wherever they could reach while eating.The top story of the night made Frank drop his fork to the floor.

It wasn’t the first time Frank had seen his client’s story covered. It had been all over the news when Gerard had first found himself freed from captivity. Don and Donna had openly requested for Gerard’s privacy to be respected, leaving a statement about the joy of having their son returned. In the following weeks information about Gerard’s captor, Hayden Baxter, was slowly leaking. Information on his extensive criminal record and relationships gone wrong, one leading to a restraining order. Baxter’s family had revealed he had expressed his interest in older teens before but had dismissed the ephebophilia as it was deemed socially accepted that most men experienced an attraction to the age group. News teams followed these with reports on the importance of monitoring young teens, maintaining consistent contact and romanticized abuse’s influence of youth.

He caught a quick flash of footage of himself alongside the Way family exiting the hospital. The headline read “Stockholm Syndrome Patient Released- Graphic Content, discretion advised". It was the first piece of footage showing Gerard’s face, or what was visible through his hair draped down over his face. The reporter stated that they were unable to get information as to how the hospital release approved despite Gerard’s history of violence since being freed, describing his various “psychopathic” attempts to return to his captor. They had gone as far as to show photographs of Gerard’s injuries, the boy smiling with Baxter in an image that had been found on Gerard’s person, Baxter’s mugshot and the house he was trapped in.

The reporter covered information that hadn’t been released to the public. It was implied that someone close to the family had revealed more personal details of Gerard’s therapy, followed by an image of Frank identifying him as the primary therapist associated with the case. They had even shown a shot of him pulling out of the family’s driveway, all but identifying the location of their home. The report was rife with misinformation of Stockholm Syndrome and quoted an anonymous “insider” revealing of Gerard’s love and defense of Baxter. The file statement brought into question the safety of the Way family with the 21-year-old in their home and Frank’s close age to his patient, only four years his superior.

“Those fuckers... Has no one on this planet heard of tact?” Frank was in shock, unable to move as he watched the report unfold, allowing the dogs to run off with his fork. “Who would tell the media this shit?”

“Frankie, it’s okay,” Jamia rubbed his arm, “The press can be jerks, remember how they tried getting a rise out of us when your mother died?”

“This is different, they’ve essentially put a target on us for hassle over my patient while making my job harder as they labeled the kid as unstable rather than a victim. What are his parents going to say when they see this?”

“They probably didn’t mean for that to happen. The media just want a good story. Just report it to work in the morning and the Way family when you next see them. You probably should tell me much more, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble over confidentiality.”

Frank sat in silence; he struggled with the idea of calling the family. It was out of his hours, but if the family had seen the report, it could be harmful to them, disrupting the progress they had made. And if they hadn’t already he could prevent damage. The reporter had all but stated the Gerard shouldn’t be allowed to return to society due to his instability. Donna had been distraught every time he had seen her.

The news station had used unethical tactics to flesh out their stories before, going as far as stalking victims of police shootings’ families to get a quote. He’d have to get a superior to make a complaint. He knew he had to make a statement himself later in the week about the harm that the report could have caused.

“Deal with it in the morning, baby,” Jamia handed him her fork, prying him out of his thoughts. “Just eat up for now and we can watch a movie, unwind before bed.”

For the second time today, Frank was thankful to have Jamia on his side.

The Way household, two suburbs away, was silent. Mikey turned the television off after the report on his brother had ended, red-faced with anger. Donna’s tears slid down her cheeks, for the first time thankful Gerard had locked himself away in his room. She watched as images of her son’s frail and bruised body covered the screen, listened to the accusations against him and the man trying to help him. The adjectives used and the implicated theories. She took it all in.

A strangled cry had the two twisted the two in their seats to look at the door. They hadn’t been alone in the living room. Gerard was on his knees in the frame whimpering, not looking up as Donna’s tears turned to sobs at the sight of him. Mikey was quickly on his feet, reached out to comfort his brother. The physical contact made Gerard recoil in fear, he shuffled away and stumbled to his feet.

"Gerard, stop!" Mikey yelled, frustrated at his brother's fear of him.

Gerard dropped back to his knees, shaking. Mikey realized his mistake and pulled him into his arms. Holding him like a child to his chest, mirroring the way it had once been done for him with the very boy in his arms. Moments like these it was hard to remember Gerard was his elder, it was as though he had stopped developing at 15 and Mikey succeeded him in his role of protector.

 

_“Are you crying, my precious boy?”  Master pulled his hair, ripping his face off the mattress._

_Gerard whimpered around the makeshift gag in his mouth, nodding because he knew better than to lie. Lying was the first thing he was punished for in a similar position to his current. Tied, naked, to a cheap metal bed frame by his wrists, face down and exposed. Upper thighs littered with bruising, skin split. Moisture was dripping down them._

_"Do you want to go home?"_

_He hesitated, was the question a trick? Dismissing the thought, he nodded slowly. His hair was released, and his Master's hand ran down his spine, index finger firmly tracing bones._

_"Even if I did let you go they wouldn't want you. Not when they realize what a slut you are."  His fingers continued past the tailbone, through the cleft of his victim's ass, circling the freshly loosened hole, dripping with cum. "You're my slut, Gee baby. No one will want you after they know how hard you get from something as simple as this. My depraved, psychopathic little boy."_

_Gerard tried to still his shaking, willed his breathing to slow, forced his body to unflinchingly comply as he was entered. He slammed himself back on Master's fingers._

_"My needy little slut," he laughed, "You love this. Look, there's no need to cry. You'll always be mine after all. If you leave, you'll just come crawling back to me, they'll call you crazy. I'm the only one who will ever love you."_

_Whimpers of fear blended into those of pleasure. He was a slut, the way he ground into the fingers penetrating him made it clear. He wanted to go home; he wanted more of this. He cried of sadness; he cried of happiness. He hated the pain, loved the pleasure. His feelings were muddled as he came, saliva soaking the material shoved in his mouth. All he knew was Master's love got him through the pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ew rapey bullshit is hard to write gross gross but necessary im so sorry im sory if i made you uncomf i was uncomf too but yeah there ya go.
> 
> like last chapter at least gerard was like "yeeeesssss" even if it was a questionable yes but i just ugh help me


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting the the driveway, file on the passenger seat. Frank was in the same position as the night before only this time with a little more motivation. He got out slowly, the file tucked under one arm and a small messenger bag over his shoulder. It was time to get professional and be diplomatic. He knocked with a polite smile already trained onto his face. He almost dropped it when he saw a puffy eyed Donna behind the now open door.

“Mrs Way, I take it you saw the news,” he said, cautiously checking over his shoulder as if expecting cameras to have had appeared in the last second.

She simply nodded, stepping aside to allow him entrance.

That was how Frank found himself, sunken into the cushions of an armchair, surrounded by the entire family sans his actual client. He sat on an armchair, looking questioningly at the boy on Mikey’s arm rest. That was new. He looked almost like a caricature of an emo teen in his mother’s make up and his sister’s jeans. Frank smiled a little brighter at the thought, remembering trying the look himself.

“Boyfriend,” Mikey stated, looking away as Frank made a note of it.

“Pete,” the strange boy said, glaring at Mikey clearly offended by not getting an actual name.

Frank wrote that down too.

“Are you around often?” Frank questioned, flicking to a new page.

Pete watched him write before responding with a question. “Are you going to write everything I say down?”

Frank snapped the folder shut, deciding to try transcribe Pete’s words after he finished speaking to make him more comfortable. Honestly, teenagers. Or at least that was what he presumed Pete to be due to Mikey’s age of eighteen and his ghastly smudging of eyeliner. The pair were both playing on sidekicks before Frank had begun talking, Mikey was the only one of the two still on his.

“Sorry, no. I just needed to write down who was here,” he explained, “Anyways, you in this house often? Do you live with you parents?”

“I was here most days until Gerard returned and I’d like to keep it that way,” Pete stated, almost bitter about the interruption Gerard had caused. “I do live with my parents, I don’t see why it’s relevant.”

So, probably a teenager or a jobless adult, okay relationship with parents, Frank inferred. He made a mental note to ask Mikey about why it had not been mentioned before. The topic of having house guests had been broached but no one contributed to the list of regular visitors. An unstable relationship maybe? That could put strain on Gerard. The topic required attention soon then.

“Everything I know about people Gerard interacts with can be useful,” Frank explained, but changed the subject at the sight of Pete opening his mouth again, “Anyone want to talk about the news last night?”

Mikey was the first to speak up. “That picture of Gerard and… That dickbag. Why did he look so happy? I know it’s like the Stockholm Syndrome stuff but… He looked genuinely like he wanted to be there. And he still cries for him, like, at night. Is he really that fucked up?”

“Michael,” Donna hissed.

“No, it’s a valid question,” Frank intervened, he hated breaking up arguments, best pinch it before it expanded, “Gerard spent a long time, ripped away from reality and he built up defenses to make himself more comfortable. His mind makes him think he was better under the control of another person and that was how he found happiness. I can find you a paper on it if you’re really struggling to understand. I’m not an expert on it.”

“That was my next question,” Don interjected quickly, “Are you really too close to Gerard’s age to help him, Frank?”

“I would say no on two main points,” Frank sighed, knowing the question would come up, “His psychiatrist recommended me because I am close to his age. It follows the idea that it gives Gerard a person that is stable in their own career and home life to be a positive influence while still having someone trained enough to manage his case. As well as close enough in age to not have blatant links to authority which he theoretically may associate with ownership and dominance which is a social habit we are working to break slowly. You’re welcome to refute that logic with his psych if you wish.”

Donna nodded and her husband seemed content with the answer. Mikey had already pulled out his phone with Pete watching the screen too. Frank took the opportunity to take notes without the attention of the teenagers. It was probably in his client’s best interests to separate the two, perhaps talk to Mikey alone.

He rifled through papers, looking for the one discussing visitation and a profile for Pete to fill out. He handed the two sheets of paper over, requesting Pete fill them out in the kitchen. Frank watched him shuffle out. He then suggested Don and Donna check on Gerard, leaving him with Mikey. Mikey continued taping on his phone, looking oblivious to the fact that he was now alone with the therapist.

“So, Mikey,” Frank started, “How is your relationship with Pete?”

“Good.”

The one word answer had been expected. Frank decided to reword the question. “Do you mind telling me why you hadn’t mentioned him before?”

“I was distracted by the town’s ‘psychopath’ coming home.”

Frank frowned, “You know they were wrong about that, right? Your brother is far from psychopathic. He behaves a little antisocially but given the circumstances it would hardly qualify him for a personality disorder. Do you think he displays symptoms of psychopathy?”

Mikey just sighed. “Is Pete allowed to be here or not? Don’t go psychologist-ing me right now.”

“He is, it’s just interesting that you wouldn’t mention your boyfriend until he was sitting in on a family session.”

“We broke up. Didn’t think he would be coming around much.”

Frank scribbled in that his suspicions were confirmed. He had to think carefully about his next question, expecting it to gain a hostile answer if he asked something that could be perceived as hostile.

“Do you break up often?” he asked reluctantly.

“Only once," Mikey mumbled.

"Would you like to talk why that is?"

"Jealousy."

Frank felt like he was having a conversation with a brick wall. "Over..?"

"His friends."

The one sided talk was interrupted by Donna and her forced smile announcing Gerard's arrival. He was withdrawn, further away than Frank had seen him. Not just mentally but physically. The last time Gerard was holding himself that far away from everyone it was only a few minutes before he was sprinting down his stairs. Despite this Gerard spoke first.

"May I speak to Frank, please?" Gerard glanced around at everyone in the room looking for consent, lingering longer on Mikey and his father.

Frank barely remembered to scribble it down, surprised by the request. And not in a negative way. Gerard making any noise other than what is asked of him is a shock.

"Of course, honey... Go take Mikey's spot," Donna smiled, reaching an arm out to her son before thinking better of it.

Mikey stood and Frank thanked him for his time in a form of goodbye.

_"As is routine, my suggestions for safety improvements and risk reduction are here," Frank said, handing Donald a typed out list as he walked through the door._

_He watched him scan over it quickly before setting off to the living room to meet with Gerard. Don poked his head in while Frank said his hellos to his client._

_"Doctor, I have a set of locks for the first suggestion. Will it be much if a bother if I start that now?"_

_Home improvement suggestion one: Making a cupboard in the kitchen lockable to hold sharps and medicine._

_"Just Frank is fine, Mr Way, and that would be no trouble at all."_

_There's a solid ten minutes of Frank speaking about the importance of goal setting until a drill starts up in the kitchen. Another point five of a second until the drill hits wood. Another second for Gerard to be on his feet and three more until he's securely under the table and by this time the drill is switched off._

_Gerard was shaking and in tears, gripping the table leg like he was in an earthquake and the world was falling around him._

_"You're safe, Gerard. Come out from there. It was just a drill, your dad was just trying to make you safer. He didn't mean to frighten you."_

_"No. I'm not coming out. Leave me alone." This was the first time Gerard had uttered the word 'no' in Frank's presence. The first time he spoke out of turn. It took just over an hour to get him to come out from under the table._

Now in Mikey's place, Gerard looked up at Frank in a rare moment of bravery, looking his therapist in the eye. He took a moment to just look before lowering his gaze to his knees.

"Are you really that close to my age?" He asked quietly, not looking up.

Frank thought about it a minute. "Did you not think I was?"

He shook his head. "You look older... The news... Were they trying to say that you were interested in me? I... wouldn't have minded if they were right."

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Gerard Way was still so young in his mind. He had virtually stopped developing socially after his capture, almost regressing in some aspects. Right now was not one of those times. He spoke softly, head bowed and seemly shy.

His shy demeanor was with good reason, had he looked up he would have seen the flashes of confusion and realization cross Frank's face. He almost visibly cringed at his words and the connotations they held.

"While that is what they were implying... That's not why I'm here. It would be unprofessional. Was that all you paid attention to last night?"

Frank wasn't surprised at the small jerk of his head in confirmation. He sighed and made a note of it to mention when he returned to the office. Perhaps he wasn't the person for this job as much as Gerard's psychiatrist thought he was.

Gerard's nod was all the motivation Frank needed to excuse himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops I'm back hey


	5. Chapter 5

The twenty minute drive from Belleview to Newark, Frank thought about how to get around the current problem. He missed his office, his nice desk chair that he splurged on with his own income, the comfy sofa provided by his employer and the single exit room that lead to the reception. Being surrounded by coworkers when he got stuck, the ease of swapping clients until they found pairings that fit. An easy escape from a client that wanted to get a little unprofessional. He groaned quietly and took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm and relaxed, ‘never take your work home with you’ was the best advice he had been given. The same thing applied to the car drive to and from. The car was his own space and he cleared all thoughts of Gerard out his head.

He parked in the space with his name written on it when he arrived in parking lot behind the office, a little too proud of being significant enough to require a park. He worked hard for it, Jamia had always been quick to point out, he should be proud. It was only feet away from the back entrance and an elevator away from the mental health services. He straightened himself up in the elevator and hit the button for his floor. He tried not to be nervous about seeing his superiors but that was hard given the circumstances.  With a smile at the young blonde on reception and headed straight to his office. He set Way’s file down on his desk and flicked an email to Joe, the head of department, requesting a chat. He typed a report of the session and prepared himself for another adolescent to come through for an evaluation. An email from Joe popped up in the corner of his screen and he passed the time until Joe was free with his work. He was alerted of his allotted time in a similar manner, a notification in the corner of his screen, thinking hard the entire walk to his superior's office.

_ “I... wouldn’t have minded if they were right.”  _ The alarm bells were ringing the second the words had come from Gerard’s lips. The many things they could imply. It was highly unlikely he was looking at an innocent schoolyard crush or any crush for that matter. After years of abuse it was more likely for him to be placing authority on Frank. He had caught the implications of the news reader and ran with them, more than likely twisted them to his own sense of normal. It was obvious through the limited conversations and Gerard’s behavior that he was still looking to be controlled. It was what he knew. 

Frank sighed as he was released from the meeting. All he had gotten out of it was a slap on the wrist for following instinct. He didn’t have much reason to back his beliefs that Gerard was seeking something more than a standard therapist relationship. It didn't matter that it made him uncomfortable. He was being unprofessional was all he was told. A professional would put the patient's needs first. Which was what he had tried to do, by you know… Finding someone more suited. More female perhaps. He sighed most of his drive home, there was nothing like being put in your place on the grounds of age and less experience. They weren’t even sending anyone in to review the situation with him. The next step would be to discuss with Gerard’s psychiatrist if he really thought it necessary, he was told and sent on his way.

The entire matter was pushed aside the second he opened his car door. It had occupied enough of his personal time and Jamia was waiting with dinner for him. All thoughts of work were banished by the time his dogs were jumping up on his legs and the sound of the news reached his ears.

 

_ Gerard’s legs were tied, that was the first thing he was aware of. Second, was the damp, cold floor beneath him and third the dark, completely impenetrable. He tried opening and closing his eyes, no change. He knew it had to have been a dream, there was no way he was home. There was never anyway home. His master had to have known about his dream and punished him before he could admit to the crime, while he was still unconscious.  _

_ “You think they’d really care enough about you to get you a shrink, beautiful?” His master was right in his ear, whispering. “That they would take you back into their home? If they really had, don’t think it would last long. They don’t care about you. They want their kid back, not the cry baby you’ve turned into.” _

_ It wasn’t real. None of it. Gerard began crying silently, there was no use making a sound. No way out. He cried out, turning to a yelp as a firm hand came across his cheek. Dry, creeping fingers had him screaming himself hoarse with fear.  It was happening again. He was back where he belonged. _

_ Then lights came on. _

 

He was in his bedroom, his mother untangling him from his blanket, the smell of urine and sweat penetrating him. Gerard looked at his mother, vaguely aware he was still screaming. Once his sticky limbs were freed from his blankets he went quiet, embarrassed about his current state. Sweat had glued Gerard’s sleep shirt to his skin like a second skin. He looked around, wide eyes meeting the wider ones of his mother. He must have been making a hell of a lot of noise.

Donna held Gerard until his shouts turned into soft whimpers. “Oh, love… Let’s get you to the shower and in some new pajamas.” Her voice shook and she eyed Mikey in the doorway, indicating to the chest of drawers they had recently filled with Gerard’s new clothes. 

She helped Gerard out of bed, slow and gentle. It was very different to how it was done twenty years ago. She led him up the stairs and to the bathroom, Mikey trailing after them with fresh clothes. The lights were switched on and the water started, clothes placed on the floor.

“Are you going to be alright in here by yourself, Gerard?” She tried, to no response. “I’ll come check on you in a minute… You’re safe.”

 

Frank gets a call fifty minutes later. His phone vibrating hard enough that it fell from his nightstand, illuminating the room. He pawed around the floor, groping for it blindly. It was 3 AM and he could barely keep his eyes open. He finally got it in his hands and sat up, looking confused by the caller ID. What could work want from him so early?

“Turn it off…” Jamia muttered beside him, rolling over in annoyance.

“I’ve got it, go back to sleep.” 

He answered the call, slowly getting out of bed. The first thing he heard was muffled shouts and running water. That woke him up. “Hello?” He closed the bedroom door behind him, worried about Jamia hearing.

“Frank, it’s Caitlin from the overnight team. We’re in the home of Gerard Way, unable to settle him. He’d really like to see you. I know you aren’t on call but-” 

Frank cut her off. “Yeah, no, I get it. Thanks for calling. I’ll be there.. Soonish. Just get him as comfortable as you can.”

He groaned after saying his goodbyes and ending the call. Using his phone as a flashlight, he tried to quietly find some clothes, settling for the workwear he had been wearing earlier and had dumped carelessly on the floor. He dressed in the living room, switching a light on and leaving a note for Jamia incase she woke before he returned. He wasn’t even sure he was fit to drive considering how tired he was but he boiled the jug to get some caffeine into his system, petting his dog while he waited. Every second he waited seemed slightly selfish when someone needed him. It was an irrational thought, he was going above and beyond what was expected of him by even being awake at this time. He just hoped it showed his dedication or whatever to Joe who clearly thought him too young. Being tired made him snappy.

The tired grumpiness wore off as he drove, sipping a second mug of coffee. He wasn’t sure if it was legal to drink and drive but it was also pretty bad to fall asleep behind the wheel. He turned on to the Way’s drive to find his usual park taken, by Caitlin he assumed. He parked along the curb instead and got out, only just noticing he never tied his shoes and his cardigan was buttoned wrong. He made himself more presentable, giving up on his bed hair at a loud shout from inside. He speed walked to the door and knocked. 

At first glance, everything in the house seemed okay. Despite the noise nothing was knocked over, there were no major signs of struggle and Donna looked shaken, not hurt. The coat rack in the entry was still upright and there were no blood stains like you would expect to see based on the sounds Gerard was making deeper in the house earlier. An odd combination of weak whimpers and the occasional cry was what remained. It was much quieter than when he had received the call.

“Thank you for coming. I- I just left him to shower and he wouldn’t stop shouting, it’s awful.” She looked defeated and hopeless. Sad that she wasn’t enough for her son, that he needed more than just her help. “He calmed some once Caitlin said you were coming but… Not enough. He’s still in the bathroom down the hall. He’s so anxious we can’t even get him to dress himself. He’s hallucinating.”

Frank nodded, letting himself in. “I’m sorry you’re having such a late night. You did the right thing by calling the team though. It’s going to be alright.”

He walked past the rest of Gerard’s family, heads down sitting in the living room just listening. The living room was all in order too, nothing screamed out of place other than the silence between father and son. Donna took a seat a few steps behind Frank, letting him find his own way to the bathroom. There was no further acknowledgement of Frank so he continued on his way.

The bathroom was where the mess began. Bloodied toilet paper had been piled on the sink, out of the way and the smell of disinfectant hit him. Caitlin, looking slightly disheveled with messier hair than Frank had seen on her in all his time of knowing her, was kneeling next to Gerard. He was only covered in a towel and a blanket, with bandages on his arms. It couldn’t have been too bad a wound, Frank assumed just scratches based on what he could see. Gerard was shaking, staring up at Frank from the second he had entered the room. He crouched down next to Caitlin and Gerard had finally silenced in his presence.

“What’s going on here?” He asked no one in particular, not minding if Gerard or Caitlin answered.

“Gerard’s just been having some bad dreams, haven’t you?” Caitlin looked to gerard with a soft smile. “I think he’s still not quite out of the dream… He thinks Baxter is still in the room. I’ve been using the distraction methods for the past hour but Gerard keeps getting lost.”

“Gone…” Gerard croaked out, voice raspy. “It’s quiet…”

“That’s a really long time to be hallucinating. You must be so stressed, Gerard. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Do you want to talk about what you heard or which distraction helped the most?” Frank asked, getting comfortable.

Gerard slowly described his dream, his uncertainties about reality as he sipped water. His voice breaking as he went but he was quick to tell Frank what he wanted to know. He confessed he didn’t realise that he had scratched his arms open again until they were covered. He sat up straighter as he spoke, looking Frank in the eye occasionally. Frank smiled at him encouragingly each time. Caitlin stood eventually, to check on the family. 

This left Frank to quietly hum the intro to Metallica songs with Gerard, just helping distract him from what wasn’t real. “They usually hum ‘Happy Birthday’ because everyone knows it but I noticed the posters in your room.” Frank explained.

“I liked them… Before.” Gerard said softly. “The posters make me nervous now…”

“We can get you some new ones when you feel ready to leave the house again.” Frank knew it wouldn’t be soon but he knew it would eventually happen.

The two spoke quietly for a short while longer until he felt Gerard was truly over the episode. He didn’t think the hallucinations were a symptom of psychosis but simply an outburst of stress that lasted slightly longer than necessary in combination with new medication that his body was adjusting too. It didn’t mean anything in terms of recovery except something to watch out for and something to teach the Way family about so they can help Gerard themselves if there was a next time. He stood once Gerard returned to silence, instructing him to get dressed before returning to the living room. 

“I still believe Gerard is safe to be in home to himself and others. We need to do something about his nails, however, the self harm isn’t intentional I don’t believe.” Frank began, assessing the family quickly. “Perhaps if Mikey could stay downstairs with him for the night it would be helpful for Gerard to know he isn’t alone. And a closer observation of showering, such as check-ins every couple of minute. Just for the next few days.” Frank advised. “An extra anti-anxiety might benefit him now.”

Another half hour of talking and further guidance for the family, they got Gerard settled into bed. Frank and Caitlin went outside to fill out an incident form together in the back of her car. A curtain opened, unnoticed by Frank, a small amount of light leaking out of a foot wide basement window. Gerard peeked out for a second, struggling to see Frank in Caitlin’s car, mostly looking at sneaker, dangling out. He closed the curtain back up once both the therapists’ cars were gone.

Mikey finally joined Gerard downstairs just as the eldest sat back into bed. He had his bed cover from upstairs and a pillow. He had brought them down the stairs with waves of nostalgia, remembering when he and Gerard used to have sleepovers in each other's’ rooms as kids. 

“I… I pulled out the couch for you...” Gerard had also tried to make it somewhat comfortable with half his pillows and extra blankets.

“Thanks, Gee.” Mikey smiled at him, always trying to be gentle with his older brother despite his fears. It didn’t matter that his brother was crazy, just that they were together again. He didn’t know how long the pleasant would last but he was trying his best despite being kept up so late. Mikey struggled to sleep in general so the extra late night was yet to impact his mood, which lifted with Gerard’s calm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, sorry this took some time! I started college and things just get wild. here you go. um, don't question the accuracy of how the working world works because i kinda just guess half the time lmao
> 
> also i know its a weird combination of UK English and US English but i'm too tired to edit for that because my life is such a jumble of both
> 
> anyway! hope you enjoyed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous about this one because i don't know much about in home therapy but i do know about how in office therapy works so im just..... sorry if i get something wrong
> 
> Anyway welcome, hi, hello have a nice time
> 
> Criticise me it's my favourite thing ever because i learn from it


End file.
